


Lend our Hands and Take our Stance

by virginiasoil



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Eventual Bellarke, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, another reunion fic, kind of dark in the first few chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-02 11:23:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4058197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virginiasoil/pseuds/virginiasoil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two years after leaving her people, Clarke is reunited with them in an unexpected way. Now she is forced to rethink her decision to never return home and confront the consequences of her absence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has been sitting on my computer forever and I decided to publish the first little bit of it tonight. As a warning, future chapters will have descriptions of the aftermath of torture, so if that is something that you can't handle please be aware (it won't be too bad though, I promise).
> 
> Anyways, like the description says, there will be eventual bellarke but I am a fan of slow burn so it will take a while for any real action to happen. Bellamy comes in about 3 chapters in. The first chunk of this fic really just focuses on Clarke's absence and the changes that have occurred during it.

Clarke had been living with the Shen’do people for almost two months when she heard the news. She was at the morning market in the center of the village with little Illi when Fredma, the local gossip, conspiratorially told her about the strange prisoners the scouts had captured the night before. 

“Myko tells me they wear strange clothes, like before the bombs. No animal skins or pelts or paint. They speak in the old tongue too. Kalli says they are ghosts but that can’t be true because Myko says they plan to torture them for information. You can’t torture ghosts.”

After sending Illi off to trade paints for fresh eggs, Clarke leaned into Fredma and asked why the Shen’do warriors planned to torture the new prisoners. 

“For information of course,” Fredma said, giddy with excitement over spreading the news. “Apparently they won’t talk. They wont say where they are from, all that they say is that they come in peace and are just passing through.”

“And the warriors don’t believe that?”

“Of course not. Who goes on a peaceful mission carrying weapons and refusing to name themselves?”

Clarke nodded and turned, scanning the crowd for Illi. “I need to go, Fredma. I don’t know where Illi has run off to.” The bony woman looked like she had more to say but Clarke left before another word could be spoken. 

Only a few days into her time with the Shen’do, Clarke had learned that they were a harsh, unforgiving people. Years of warfare with neighboring clans had taught them to be very suspicious of outsiders and had molded their society into a warrior-based system. Though Clarke was not a fan of torture, she knew it was pointless to protest against the clan’s leaders about it. She would only experience the practice herself. 

Clarke’s eyes locked on a small head of red curls near a pen of rabbits. Illi was stretching her chubby, little arms as far as she could to try and reach the fuzzy creatures inside. 

“Did you get the eggs, Illi?”

The little girl turned and grinned at Clarke, her smiled was dotted with lost baby teeth. “Aren’t they cute, Anya?”

It was still strange to hear herself called by Anya’s name. “They are very cute, but we need to get the eggs and get back to your mother’s. I have to meet with Zida soon.”

The small redhead heaved a great, mournful sigh and delivered a heartfelt goodbye to the rabbits. After handing Clarke the bag of paints she slid her sticky, little hand into Clarke’s and allowed herself to be led towards the egg stall. 

When they finally returned to Illi and her mother’s hut Clarke was once again accosted with talk about the prisoners. 

Delia was a tall, willowy woman who always seemed to be covered in the paints she created. She was kind, allowing Clarke to live with her while she stayed with the Shen'do, and often refused to talk about whatever rumors were floating around the village. This morning, however, was an exception. 

“Did you hear?” She asked eagerly as Clarke brushed aside the animal pelt that functioned as the hut’s door. Illi ran forward to embrace her mother. Clarke placed the fresh eggs on the hut’s small table before turning to Delia. 

“Did I hear what?”

“About the prisoners?”

“Yes,” Clarke replied, slipping her boots off. “Fredma told me all about them.”

“Do you think they are really ghosts?” 

The Shen’do were a very suspicious group. They worshipped a god of death and believed very strongly in ghosts. The ghosts of their ancestors, they believed, protected their homes. The ghosts of their enemies and those who had perished when the world ended, however, were evil and constantly fought to destroy the Shen’do. It was from these ghosts, they believed, that illness, bad weather, premature death, and famine derived. Clarke had never been one to believe in the supernatural, but she knew better than to show any skepticism of the Shen’do’s beliefs. 

“Fredma doesn’t. She said that they plan to torture them. You can’t torture something with no body.”

Delia looked unconvinced but dropped the subject as she turned to help Illi reach a wooden doll on a high shelf. 

By the time Clarke made her way towards Zida’s hut the rumors had not died down. There were four prisoners, she learned, three men and one woman. They were young; old enough to have children but too young to have grandchildren. They had strange weapons and tools that the Shen’do had never seen before. Clarke hoped that these advancements might spare the prisoners, like her advanced healing had spared her, but she knew better. The strange tools and weapons would only increase suspicion. 

Even the ancient healer who rarely spoke to Clarke of things other than medicine eagerly spoke of the ‘ghosts’ who had come to camp. As they got to work organizing herbs and plants and occasionally helping a patient that straggled in, Zida rambled on about the newcomers in her gravelly voice. It was only hours later that she said something that actually interested Clarke. 

“I hope to find out more about them when I am called for by the warriors later.”

Looking up from the weeds she was separating, Clarke knit her brows together in confusion. “Why will they come for you?”

“Because, child, they must heal them after hurting them. Otherwise they would kill the strange ones. Cuts and burns must have salves and bruises must be massaged. You get no information out of dead men.”

“So you don’t think they are ghosts?”

The old woman chuckled and shook her head. “No, they are odd people but they are not ghosts. Even our brave warriors could not catch a ghost, let alone four. I have heard rumors of people like this from the north. Months ago a trader came through during the planting festival. He spoke of people with strange cloths and old tongues in the north.”

For a moment Clarke thought of her own people to the north, could they be the strange ones that the trader spoke of?

“Did he say what the people called themselves?”

“No, but he said that others told him the people fell from the sky.”

Clarke’s heart skipped a beat. “Do you think the prisoners fell from the sky too? Do you think they are from the group in the north?”

Zida seemed to mull over the idea for a moment before answering. “I don’t know, child. Perhaps. Maybe they fell here too, not just in the north.”

Maybe, Clarke thought. She couldn’t imagine anyone from Camp Jaha would journey this far south with winter setting in soon. But could a part of the Ark have fallen here in southern Virginia rather than in the north?

“Well, if you find out more about the prisoners, Zida, please tell me.”

Zida laughed again, “Of course, Anya. You know how my people are; we couldn’t hold gossip in if our lives depended on it. Now recite for me again the medical uses of the H’ui weed.”

Zida was correct in her assumption and before too long a young warrior with blonde braids down his back came to fetch the old healer. Clarke walked distractedly home to Delia’s hut that evening, her mind fixed on who the prisoners might be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! I already have a good bit of this fic written, so those who may be worried about updates with Three Months (my other multi chapter fic), have no fear. There will be an update on that this week as I have promised.
> 
> As for updates with this one, they will be once or twice a week. Right now, just from what I'm planning in my head and the amount of pages I have written already, this may be a monster of a fic. Its kind of just my imagination exploding as I mope about there being 9 months until we find out what is going on with these losers.
> 
> Title is from Brandi Carlile's "I belong to You"
> 
> Thanks for reading, love y'all :)


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to go ahead and publish the second chapter tonight too, just to give more context and hopefully hook y'all in :)
> 
> Also, I forgot to mention earlier, in this fic (as in all my reunion fics it seems) Murphy and Jaha never left. It just makes my life a little easier that way. 
> 
> Enjoy!

As she walked back to the healer’s hut the following morning Clarke’s eyes found the old bunker the Shen’do used as a prison. The night before had been restless. Clarke had tossed and turned, the thought of her people being burned and cut and broken summoning up memories of the war she ran from almost two years before.There were already patients in the healer's hut when she got there. A pregnant woman who found blood between her legs, a small child that had fallen from a tree, and a reckless young warrior that nearly cut off his finger with his own knife. The various patients kept the healers busy all day, so it wasn’t until the late afternoon that Clarke had the chance to ask Zida the question that burned on her tongue. 

“Did you learn anything?”

Zida hummed in confusion, acting as if she had no idea what Clarke was talking about. 

Holding in a frustrated sigh Clarke clarified her question. “Did you learn anything about the prisoners?”

“Ah, yes.” The old woman continued to crush flowers, not elaborating on her answer. If there was one thing the Shen’do loved more than gossip and war it was attention. 

“What did you learn?”

The old woman smiled to herself and shook her head as if amused by Clarke’s inquisitiveness. She continued mashing flowers without speaking. Just as Clarke was about to ask again, her stomach twisting in annoyance, Zida finally spoke. 

“There are four of them. Two men with dark hair, one with light hair, and one woman. The three youngest ones broke after only a few hours. They told Myko and Just that they are Sky People from the north. They claim to be passing through on a mission to the trade and peace conference at Deden but they bring no goods so the warriors say they lie.”

“Sky People from the north?” Clarke tried to keep the emotion out of her voice but her mind was racing a mile a minute. 

“Yes. They said they come from a place called Jaha. They told Myko all about their village; answered all his questions about their leaders and allies and such. Apparently the quiet, dark haired, older man is one of their leaders.”

“Did they say their names?” Clarke knew her voice was now soaked with desperation but couldn’t bring herself to care. Zida looked at her curiously. 

“No. The men did not ask; it is not wise to know enemies names.”

Clarke nodded, a thousand other questions on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t want to make her interest too obvious, though, so she pretended to focus on slicing the mushrooms on the table. Before long, Zida could no longer help herself from spilling all that she learned. 

“Their people have five leaders, apparently, and sent them south on a mission. None of the information they gave was important, though. So Myko told me that they will leave them in their cells.”

“They aren’t going to torture them anymore?”

“No, there is no use. It is a waste of energy.”

“What will they do with them? Will they kill them?”

“No, not yet. Not when there is the possibility of receiving ransom on them. Plus they could be used as leverage while gaining information from the leader.” 

“The leader?”

“Yes, the dark haired man. They said he is one of their five leaders. The warriors will continue to try to make him talk.”

“So they will keep torturing him?”

“Naturally. He must know more than his warriors if he is a leader and he appears to be an enemy spy. He was silent all of yesterday so our warriors are intent on breaking him today.”

As if on cue the same blonde haired warrior as the day before came in to escort Zida to the prison. 

That night Clarke barely touched her dinner. Her people were there, in the village, being tortured. She desperately wanted to know which four were being held in the prison. Zida had said there were five leaders and the dark haired man was one of them. Immediately a familiar freckled face swam into her vision, but Clarke shook her head. It couldn’t be him. There was no way he would be put on the Council, not after nearly killing Jaha and repeatedly defying Kane and her mother. Even if he were offered the spot Clarke doubted he would accept it. 

The Council had to be her mother, Kane, Captain Miller, Jaha, and some other adult from the Ark. There was no way they would let one of the delinquents serve. So that left three sure possibilities of whom the leader Zida spoke of could be. Kane, Jaha, or Captain Miller, all of who had dark hair. 

As Clarke lay in bed that night one thought ran through her head. She had to free her people. Each hour that went by caused Clarke to become more and more anxious. She knew she needed to help whoever was in the prison, but the question was how. It was nearly impossible to break into the concrete bunker where her people were held. 

It came to her late the next afternoon. Zida was telling her about how the dark haired leader had still refused to be broken the day before and how she looked forward to finding out whether or not he had broken during the day. Suddenly it hit Clarke. Each day they came for Zida, needing a healer to ensure they did not kill their victim too soon. If she could somehow take Zida’s place, she could find out who was there. It didn’t solve the problem of getting her people out but it was certainly a step in the right direction. 

But how to take Zida’s place? The warriors would never accept her aid over that of Zida’s. The old woman had lived in the village her whole life while Clarke had only been there two months. The Shen’do were exceedingly suspicious of strangers and although they allowed Clarke to live with them she knew they did not fully trust her yet. Certainly not enough to leave her alone with prisoners. 

She had to somehow make it so that Zida could not go to the prison leaving the guards no choice but to accept Clarke’s help. 

Clarke looked over to where the old woman hovered around a kid who skinned his knee. She couldn’t kill Zida. The healer was kind to Clarke and the village needed her too much. No, she couldn’t kill her, but she could make her sick. Not sick enough to die but sick enough that she couldn’t leave her hut. 

Her eyes skimmed over the various jars that lined the hut’s walls. Just as she selected the right one to use, the familiar warrior entered, ordering Zida to follow him. The old woman nodded at Clarke and left, soon followed by the boy with the skinned knee. Once alone in the hut, Clarke quickly pulled a few flowers out of the selected jar and crushed them with a rounded stone. Glancing quickly to the door, her heart pounding, Clarke scraped the crushed petals into the stew bubbling over the fire.

It wasn’t nearly enough to kill Zida, but it would give her horrible indigestion for at least a week. Bad enough that she would refuse to leave her hut for fear of embarrassing herself in front of her neighbors. After cleaning up the evidence of her tampering, Clarke left the hut and made her way back to Delia’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!


	3. Chapter Three

Her plan seemed to work. The old woman was lying on her bed of furs when Clarke walked in the next morning. Zida’s arm was slung across her sweaty brow and a pang of guilt rippled through Clarke.

“Zida? Are you okay?”

A groan was all she got in response. 

Clarke spent the day shuffling between tending to patients, tending to Zida, and organizing supplies. After what felt like forever the same warrior entered the hut to fetch Zida. He stopped short when he saw the healer lying prostrate on the bed. 

“What is wrong?”

“She's ill.” Concern clouded his face. Zida was the village’s only healer; if she died they were left with no medical help. It was one of the reasons Clarke had been allowed (forced, really) to stay. “Zida will live,” Clarke reassured the young man. “But she will not be able to leave her hut for a few days at least.” 

He seemed to panic momentarily, clearly unsure of what he should do. Clarke didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to seem too eager to visit the prisoners. 

Finally she heard what she wanted. “Then you must come. Leave her. I will send a girl to watch her.”

“Come where?”

“Where do you think? You must tend to the prisoner.” 

For a moment Clarke froze. He had said prisoner. Not prisoners. Had the others already been killed? Rather than ask, however, Clarke distractedly grabbed supplies before following the warrior out the door. He left her at the door to the bunker after quickly explaining the situation to the guards there. 

Clarke’s heart pounded as she followed a guard down the concrete stairs of the bunker and through a series of tunnels. She did her best to memorize the route to make things easier when it came to planning an escape route. They came to a stop before a heavy metal door. 

“Wait here. When Myko and Kile come out go in and tend to the prisoner.” Clarke nodded to show she understood and watched the guard disappear back down the corridor. She slumped down against the wall letting out a heavy sigh at the familiarity of the situation. Once again she was stuck in a bunker underground trying to save her people from what felt like an impossible situation. Once again she didn’t even know if a majority of her people were alive. The blonde warrior had only mentioned one prisoner. Perhaps there was only one person left to save. 

Leaning her head against the cool wall Clarke tried to clear her thoughts and concentrate on her breathing. 

Suddenly she heard a muffled groan of pain. 

Bolting up, Clarke tried to find the source. Her eyes searched the dim area wildly before it hit her. The sound had come from the room next to her; from behind the metal door.

Its was the person she was trying to save. The person being tortured for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just like her people in the mountain. 

Clarke could feel bile rising in her throat. 

After fifteen minutes and thirty-three seconds, she counted every second to distract herself from the pained sounds of the victim, the door opened. Two large men emerged. Clarke recognized Myko, the defacto leader of the village, and assumed the other was Kile. Kile’s knuckles were bruised. Both were sweaty with exertion. Clarke wanted to vomit. 

They nodded at her as they passed and Clarke took that as her sign to enter the room. 

The first thing she noticed was the stench. It smelled of sweat and blood and mold. Bloodied straw covered the floor and an arrangement of tools covered one wall. It was horrible, more horrible than she could have imagined. 

In the middle of the room stood a steal beam. A man was chained to it. In the dim light Clarke could only make out his outline. His head was slumped against his chest, his knees buckled. His arms, chained above him, were the only thing holding him upright. His muscled torso was crisscrossed with cuts and bruises. 

Clarke couldn’t hold in the bile anymore. She ran to a corner as her stomach tried to empty itself. By the time she finished retching her eyes had adjusted to the dim torchlight. 

She steeled herself and turned back to the man behind her. Suddenly fear replaced the disgust in her gut. 

No. It couldn’t be. It can’t be. No. Anybody but him. 

Now that her eyes had adjusted Clarke could see the messy mop of sweaty, dirty, black curls. They were shorter than when she had seen them last. Octavia must have cut them for him. The broad shoulders were too familiar, even covered in the evidence of his torture. 

In three strides she stood in front of him, the smell of blood and sweat assaulting her senses. Hands shaking, she reached up and cradled his face. 

His dark eyes were closed. Passed out from either exhaustion or pain or both. Cuts and scrapes dotted his freckled cheeks. A yellow and purple bruise bloomed around one eye. Its twin sat heavily on the opposite cheek. 

Clarke felt tears well up in her eyes of their own accord. Bellamy looked so small and fragile before her. So unlike himself. So broken. 

The guards had not told her whether or not she was allowed to unchain him, but Clarke did so anyways after finding a key that fit hanging on the far wall. The weight of his limp body on hers nearly caused her to fall, but she caught herself and lowered him gently onto the dirty straw. Her eyes scanned his body, taking in every injury. It seemed they had spared his bones so far. Most of his injuries were bruises and small cuts. His wrists were raw from the metal shackles and Clarke feared they were infected. Turning his body slightly to the side, Clarke noted with a sharp intake of breath that his back was bore the brunt of his injuries. There were no bruises, but the cuts were deep and long. Some were scabbing over slightly while others looked fresh. The work of a whip. 

Clarke fought against the urge to puke again and pulled his unconscious body up into a sitting position. She leaned him against the wall so as to keep the dirty straw out of the wounds on his back. 

Leaving Bellamy momentarily, Clarke grabbed her medical kit and a bucket of water that stood near the corner. Ripping a long strip of cloth off of her shirt, Clarke dipped it in the cool water before beginning to clean his wounds. 

She started with Bellamy’s face, pushing his hair out of the way and gently holding his unbruised cheek. 

Over the past year Clarke had thought about this moment in the dead of night when there was nothing left to distract her thoughts. How it would be if she returned. What their reunion would be like. What he might say. Whether or not he would let her embrace him after abandoning him for so long. 

Never once did she imagine it like this. 

He woke up when she began on his back. She had put it off until the end, choosing to clean the smaller, less significant wounds on his chest and arms first; stitch up the shallow cut across his torso; wrap up the raw flesh of his wrists. His back was the worst. All torn flesh with a slightly rancid smell indicating infection setting in. It was apparent to Clarke that Zida hadn’t been taking care of Bellamy, only halfheartedly cleaning the wounds most likely. She didn’t feel so guilty about drugging the old healer anymore. 

His groan was the first thing that alerted Clarke to his returned consciousness. She sat behind him and couldn’t see his face, but his arms moved stiffly and his head shifted ever so slightly. 

“Bellamy?” His body tensed, he turned his head slightly to the left as if trying to catch a glance of her. 

“Clarke?” Bellamy’s voice was hoarse and broken. The sound made her insides twist in pain. Gently leaning his body back against the wall, and wincing as the hiss of pain he let out, Clarke slid in front of him. 

His eyes, once so full of fire and emotion, were weary. Clarke watched as his heavy brow knotted in confusion. 

“What…how…are you…” 

Clarke shushed him gently and cupped his face in her small hands. Bellamy’s skin was pale, too pale. “Its okay, I’m going to help you. I’m going to get you out. Who is with you?” It felt strange to speak in English after so many months using grounder speech.

Bellamy just continued to study her face in disbelief instead of answering her questions. 

“Bellamy I need you to talk to me. I know you are in pain, I know you are exhausted, but you need to tell me who is here with you.”

“I don’t,” he began before suddenly pushing her away. “No,” his voice was soft but grew louder as he repeated the word. “No…no….no… this isn’t real…. a hallucination.” 

Clarke moved towards him but he jerked away again, hissing as his raw back hit the wall. 

“Bellamy you are going to hurt yourself.”

“No, this isn’t real.”

“It is real, I promise.”

There was a strange look in his eyes that Clarke quickly realized was fear. He feared her. 

“Get away from me.” Bellamy’s voice was all venom. 

“Your back is-”

Clarke was interrupted as the door swung open. She jumped up with a start, but not before noticing the terror that washed across Bellamy’s face as he looked to the door. 

“You unchained him. Why?” Myko’s voice was harsh, angry. 

Trying to calm her racing pulse, Clarke masked her emotions. “His wrists were raw and needed bandages. And I couldn’t reach his back when he was chained.”

The weathered warrior eyed her suspiciously as he made his way towards Bellamy. The bruised and battered man had also masked his emotions, his face now stoic rather than panicked. Myko roughly grabbed his shoulder and yanked Bellamy forward to inspect his back. Clarke couldn’t help but be proud when Bellamy refused to let out any sound of pain. 

After a long moment Myko released Bellamy and looked to Clarke. “Why are you stitching him and wrapping his wounds? Zida never did that.”

“I never watched Zida heal him. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I treated him like I treat all my patients.”

Myko’s glare was harsh. “From now on only clean the wounds to prevent infection. It is infection that leads to early death.”

Clarke wanted to argue that leaving wounds open would only increase chances of infection and that there were many other ways in which Bellamy could die but she held her tongue. 

“Go outside,” Myko ordered. “I will chain him up again and then meet you.”

Swallowing down the bile that rose in her throat at the thought of his raw wrists being shackled, Clarke nodded and walked out into the hallway. She gulped in the fresher air while trying to hold back tears. Moments later Myko joined her. After locking the door he put a firm hand on her shoulder, pushing her forward and out of the bunker. 

Clarke didn’t sleep at all that night. She could still smell his blood and sweat. She could still feel his torn flesh. She could still see the fear and distrust in his eyes. 

It would have been horrible to see any of her people like that, really any human being to be honest, but why, God, why did it have to be him. 

The next day Zida was still bedridden, as Clarke had planned, so when the blonde warrior came in the afternoon it was again Clarke who followed him out. This time Clarke didn’t release Bellamy from the chains nor did she stitch his fresh cuts. Though it killed her, she followed Myko’s unspoken rules. If she wanted to free Bellamy she had to keep the Shen’do trusting her. 

Bellamy didn’t speak to her when he came to. Instead he just stared at her, mistrust in his eyes, while she asked him questions and whispered apologies. 

As Myko escorted her from the room later, Clarke decided to take a risk. 

“What about the other prisoners? Don’t I need to tend to them as well?”

Myko only grunted in response.

“I know you don’t want to show too much kindness to them, but I really should just check them briefly. To make sure they carry no communicable diseases if for nothing else.”

That seemed to do the trick. The last thing the Shen’do needed before winter was an uncontrollable outbreak. Clarke watched Myko struggle with what to do. Finally he caved and angrily pushed her down a passage Clarke had not been down before. They stopped in front of another heavy, metal door. 

“I’m going to go oversee the changing of the guard. When I come back we are leaving for the night.”

Clarke nodded and he unlocked the door. Three pairs of eyes locked on hers. Despite the relief that flooded her body, Clarke purposefully remained emotionless until she heard the lock click behind her and Myko’s footsteps retreating. 

“Clarke!” 

Monroe looked about to burst with relief. Miller’s mouth hung open in shock. The third Sky Person, who Clarke didn’t recognize, looked up at her hopefully. She quickly crossed the small room, dim room and knelt before them. 

“I don’t have much time. Show me your worst wounds. While I tend to them explain everything.”

Monroe and the stranger began pulling up clothing to reveal cuts but Miller stayed stock-still. “Where is Bellamy?” The fear in his voice seemed to have a presence all its own in the room. Monroe and the stranger looked at Clarke, a mixture of dread and hope in their eyes. 

“He is…okay. For now.” They didn’t need to know how bad it was; how worried Clarke was that even if she manage to get them out of this hell Bellamy would die of exhaustion or infection or simple blood loss. “Now tell me everything.”

Apparently the small group had been traveling southwest to attend a trade and peace conference Lincoln had heard about. They hoped to make alliances with tribes that would provide them with seeds and livestock. The last winter had been harsh and their population had grown over the summer between new babies and grounders who wanted to live with them. Hunted meat and foraged greens wouldn’t be enough this year. Several groups had set out to establish trade across the region but many clans feared or resented the Sky People. The Council had hoped that by going farther south and west they could avoid the stigma they carried. Everything had been going well until one night when they were overwhelmed by Shen’do warriors and taken captive. Ashamedly, the three admitted to breaking down early. They hadn’t seen Bellamy since the stranger, named Harley as Clarke learned, spilled that the older man was a Council member.

By the time they had finished the story, Clarke was done with their wounds. Though bad, compared to Bellamy their injuries were nothing. 

“Is he really okay, Clarke?” Monroe asked, her voice small with worry. 

Clarke sighed heavily. “I’m not going to sugar coat it. It’s not good. The stupid, stubborn bastard won’t break and the Shen’do are taking it as personal insult. But I am going to get you all out, I promise. I just need to figure out how.”

“Its hopeless, Clarke. I saw the bunker when we came in. There is only one way in, I’m sure of it. There are no windows or anything. We are going to die here.” Miller’s bitterness seemed contagious as the other two prisoners mumbled in agreement. 

“I am going to figure it out.” Clarke tried to sound as firm as she could. They had to believe it even if she didn’t. “I will, I promise you. Now, listen. After Myko comes back I probably won’t see you again until the actual plan is under way. Until then I need you to act how you did before you knew I was here. They don’t know who I am, they think I am a drifting grounder from the East named Anya. I also need you to be as compliant as possible. Right now they are toying with the idea of holding you for ransom instead of killing you, but there is a strong possibility they will choose to kill you. Until that time comes be complainant. If I don’t come back before they decide, fight like hell against death.” The three faces in front of her were grim. Clarke heard footsteps outside. “Stay strong, stay hopeful, rest a lot, and be ready. I will be back for you, I promise.”

She stood, moving towards the door, and slipped a mask of boredom onto her face. Myko looked at her questioningly as he opened the door. 

“They have no diseases.”

The large warrior nodded, relief apparent on his face, and led Clarke out of the bunker without as much force as before. Clarke had gambled on asking about the other three prisoners, but it paid off. 

She spent the next two days coming up with a strategy whenever she wasn’t busy with a patient, Zida, or Bellamy. The poor man could barely sit, let alone stand, so he would need to be carried out. Clarke still wasn’t entirely sure about the condition about Miller, Monroe, or Harley but she assumed, with a great deal of forced optimism, that at least one of them could help her drag Bellamy out. She knew her way around the bunker well enough that she could find the rooms where her people were kept, the only problem was the guards. There were two posted at the doors and several patrolling the hallways. At night Clarke hid behind a hut in order to count the time between the changing of the guard at the door. If she caught the guards towards the end of their shift in the dead of night, Clarke figured she had a bit of a better chance of taking them down. 

When the sun rose on the fourth day, Clarke had finalized her plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come follow me on tumblr! Talk to me! Send me prompts! Let's be friends! I have extra things I have written on there! 
> 
> http://clipmywingsandwalkmymiles.tumblr.com/


	4. Chapter Four

As she cleaned Bellamy’s cuts that afternoon she whispered her ideas to him. It was the first visit he didn’t wake up during. She couldn’t blame him, after all Myko and his men had taken to breaking three of his fingers. All the same, it worried her. She had to do it tonight. Bellamy was strong, but not strong enough to endure this much longer. There was only one way this would end for him. Myko wanted information Bellamy didn’t have, not that he would share it even if he did know the answer. 

Either she saved him and the others tonight or watched their bodies burn in a pyre in a couple days. 

That night she went through her normal routine. Clarke brushed Illi’s hair as Delia tided the one room house. As the mother and daughter crawled into bed, Clarke settled on her furs by the fire. She listened closely to Delia and Illi’s breathing. When their breaths became steady and slow, Clarke silently rose from bed and pulled on a thick, wool cloak. Grabbing the pack she had organized while alone in the hut that morning she headed for the door. Before leaving Clarke spared one more look back at her hosts. She felt guilty about taking their food and Delia’s cloak. The two had been incredibly kind to her, but her people came first. They always had. She had committed genocide for them once. She knew she would do it again if she had to. Stealing some supplies from good people was a small sacrifice in the scheme of things. 

On her way to the prison bunker, Clarke stopped by the blacksmith’s shop. Boris snored drunkenly by his hearth oblivious to the world around him. Sneaking past the passed out blacksmith, Clarke grabbed one long, deadly looking knife and four smaller ones. Stuffing the small ones into her pack, Clarke snuck back into the open clutching the longer knife tightly. Next she stopped at Guia’s shop. The woman sold the best furs in the village. Clarke picked three particularly thick ones, struggling to hold them all. She made her way to the outskirts of camp, carefully avoiding watchmen, and stashed the blankets in the thick underbrush. Winter would come any day. There would be no use in saving her people only to have them freeze on the trek home. 

It was finally time to get to the difficult part of her plan. 

Clarke carefully picked her way through the village staying in the shadows. Her heart was pounding but she felt calm, almost at peace. It had been a year since Clarke had done something as daringly reckless as this, but it felt right in a strange way that she didn’t want to think too hard about. When she finally reached the bunker, Clarke ducked behind a pile of firewood and watched the guards at the door. One of them was slumped against the concrete, his head lolling around as he tried to avoid sleep. The other stood, but his eyes drooped. Clarke estimated that it was around 3:00 in the morning. The village was dead asleep and the next guard change was in about half and hour. It was now or never. She reached into her pack as silently as possibly pulling out two of the short knives. During her year alone, Clarke had become quite skilled at knife throwing. A month and a half spent with a bellicose tribe that excelled at the sport had taught her well. 

Aiming carefully Clarke forced the guilt, fear, and panic rising in her down and threw. The knife hit true to her aim causing the standing guard to choke on his own blood. Before the second guard could stand or call out for aid an identical knife pierced his throat with a sickening thwack. Clenching her jaw, Clarke moved forward and retrieved the knives. She propped the guards up against the bunker so that to anyone passing by they would appear to be siting. It wasn’t a great plan to avoid detection, and it would surely fail if someone came too close, but it was all Clarke had. 

She slipped through the door and began to run down the hall, wincing as the sound of her footsteps bounced off the walls. Turning down a familiar passageway Clarke searched for the third door on the right. Once she reached it Clarke realized another problem. She didn’t have any keys. Sighing in frustration for missing such a key detail to her plan, Clarke turned around and made her way back up to the surface. After peering around quickly to make sure there was nobody around, Clarke grabbed the keys that had fallen from the hands of the standing guard. Moments later she was unlocking the door and ushering Miller, Monroe, and Harley out of the room. Monroe was limping and Miller held his shoulder awkwardly. Harley would have to be the one to help her carry Bellamy to safety. 

Suddenly the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor. Clarke shoved the prisoners back into the dark room and ran back down the hall, pressing herself flat against the corner of the intersection. She readied a knife as the footsteps got louder and mentally prepared herself for what she had to do. 

She slit his throat the second he turned the corner. It was the blonde warrior that had become such a common fixture in her life. He couldn’t be more than 18. 

Clarke didn’t let herself dwell on his death or the blood on her hands, however. She ran back towards the room where Miller, Monroe, and Harley waited. Freeing them once more she led them down the hallway. 

“Where’s Bellamy, Clarke?” Monroe whisper.

“We are on our way to get him. You and Miller stand guard, Harley you come with me. He isn’t going to be able to stand, we need to carry him.”

“I can-”

“Miller I can see how you are holding your shoulder. I need you to fight if it comes to that, not further injure yourself. Harley and I can handle it. Here.” She handed them all the small knives she had stolen and pretended not to notice as they grimly looked at the blood that already stained the weapons. 

When the reached the steel door at the end of the hallway Miller and Monroe turned to stand guard as Clarke led Harley into the room. The kid couldn’t be more than 17 and when the stench and sight of the torture chamber hit him he began to gag, his eyes panicked. Clarke quickly reached out and grabbed his shoulders. 

“Hey, its okay. You are here with me, alright? Nobody is going to hurt you. You are fine, I promise.” 

Harley nodded furiously, eyes still darting around. Clarke knew he wasn’t fine but there wasn’t time to calm him. Leaving him by the door, Clarke rushed toward Bellamy limp form. 

“Harley, I need you to focus now, okay? I know it’s hard but I need your help. I am going to hold Bellamy up but you need to unlock the shackles. The key is right there by your left shoulder.” Harley just stared blankly at her, terror in his eyes. This wasn’t going to work. “Miller get in here, now!” She didn’t want to injure Miller further but what she didn’t have a choice. 

Miller hurried into the room, pushing Harley back into the hall with Monroe. “What is it, Clarke?”

“Harley can’t handle this, I need you to help me, I’m sorry I know you are injured but-”

“What do you need, Clarke?”

“I am going to hold him up but I need you to unlock the shackles the key is there by the door.”

Miller nodded and quickly grabbed the keys. Clarke braced herself to catch Bellamy’s weight as Miller reached up, wincing, to unlocked the restraints. Immediately Bellamy’s limp form collapsed on her, still unconscious from pain and exhaustion. 

“Help me hold him up, Miller. Put his arm around your shoulder and your arm around his torso I’ll do the same and-” 

Clarke was cut off as Miller hissed in pain while trying to shoulder some of Bellamy’s weight. His shoulder was too tender, there was no way he could carry any weight on it. Her mind went into overdrive. “Okay, okay, it will all be okay, you just go out with the others and make sure the passageway is clear. I can get him.”

“Clarke-”

“We don’t have any other options, Miller. Harley can’t handle this, Monroe can barely walk, and your shoulder is worse than I thought. I can do this, okay. Just go out and secure the way.” She gave him her pack and told him to have Monroe carry it. 

Miller still looked unsure but followed her orders. Clarke didn’t wait for him to disappear through the doorway before hoisting Bellamy onto her back. She held his forearms in front of her, careful not to touch his raw wrists. Every muscle in her body screamed under his weight but she pushed herself forwards towards the door. They needed to get out, get safe, and then rest. 

It became a mantra in her head. Get out. Get safe. Then rest. Get out. Get safe. Then rest. 

The group moved as quickly as they could to the exit but their progress was slow. Monroe was having trouble walking and Clarke was bowed under Bellamy’s dead weight. His was considerably bigger than her, his limp feet dragged behind her and his broad chest weighed her shoulders down. Every one of her limbs felt like they were on fire but she pushed on. 

Get out. Get safe. Then rest. 

When they finally reached the exit of the bunker, Clarke stopped the small party before opening the door. 

“Okay, here is the plan. Miller and Monroe, you two go out first and see if the coast is clear. If it is, signal back to Harley and me and I will follow with Bellamy. The village is sleeping so with any luck we wont be spotted. If someone does see you, kill them before they can alert anyone. I don’t need to tell you how viscous the Shen’do warriors are. They take betrayal particularly badly. If one of them is able to alert others, we are all dead.”

“Where do we go once we are out?”

“Head to your left and stop behind a hut. If nothing goes wrong then we will meet you there. From then on I will lead us out. They think walls show weakness so instead they rely on an extensive patrol to keep their village safe from outsiders. I studied their pattern over the past few weeks knowing that I would need to leave eventually and I wasn’t sure if they would let me go since their current healer is ancient. Once we are past the patrol we go as far as we can before finding a safe place to rest for the night. Tomorrow morning we figure out what is next.”

“And if we don’t manage to get past the patrols?”

“We fight or we die.”

Miller nodded. Monroe eyed Bellamy on Clarke’s back. “Clarke, you are going to be too slow holding him up. I know that my leg is holding me back but I can force myself through it. If we need to run-”

“That is why Harley is staying back with me.” She turned to the boy next to her. His eyes had cleared a bit since they were in the torture chamber but he still looked dazed. “Harley I need you to help me. I know this is a lot to deal with but I need you to focus.”

Monroe limped over and grabbed Harley by the shoulders. “You can do this, snap out of it and help. You wanted to be a guardsman, that’s why we let you come. Now is the time to prove it Harley. Are you worthy to be in the Guard?”

Her words seemed to do the trick. He snapped out of his daze and looked towards Clarke, fear still evident in his eyes.

“Don’t be afraid, Harley. You can do this. We will make it out,” Clarke said softly. His nodded. “Okay, I am going to slid Bellamy off and to the side, pull one of his arms over your shoulder and put your arm around his waist so we can drag him along. That’s good.” Clarke ignored the way Harley’s face paled as he touched Bellamy’s bloody back. She arranged herself to mimic Harley’s position and gave a single nod to Miller indicating that he could open the door. 

Clarke’s heart pounded in her chest as she waited for Miller signal to her. Every possible negative scenario danced through her head. After what felt like forever Miller materialized and waved the forward. With a grunt Clarke began to pull Bellamy forward. At first she was doing a majority of the work but as soon as they were completely in the open something seemed to snap in Harley and Clarke felt her load lighten as he took more of Bellamy’s weight on his shoulder. 

By some miracle they managed to make it out of the village with only two close calls. Clarke took the lead as they neared the perimeter and told everyone to stay as quiet and low as they could. The woods in front of them were a boggy, marshy, mess but they were also the least watched by Shen’do warriors. They passed by the spot where she had hidden blankets earlier and told Monroe to grab them quickly. A couple times they were nearly caught, but luck was on their side and clouds covered the moon clothing the woods in darkness. 

It was even more difficult to drag the still unconscious Bellamy through the boggy ground and Clarke was concerned about his ever-worsening condition. Everyone was exhausted and Miller, Monroe, and Harley were all still recovering from their injuries. Clarke new they needed to stop soon, but she pushed herself with the knowledge that come morning they had to be as far away from the Shen’do as possible. 

To their credit, Miller, Monroe, and Harley didn’t complain once during their flight. They pushed themselves forward, no doubt fully understanding the urgency of distance. However, when Clarke ordered them to stop as the first hints of light curled on the horizon all three let out sighs of relief. Harley helped her lower Bellamy onto the ground while Monroe covered him with a blanket. 

“Now what, Clarke?” Miller was panting, his hand braced on his knees. 

“We need to find shelter, cover some of out tracks, and I need to start tending to his wounds,” she nodded towards Bellamy’s still form. The others gazed at him worriedly. 

“Harley and I can scope out a safe place to set up camp,” Monroe said. 

Miller added that he could retrace their steps to distort the tracks they had made. Clarke nodded and watched them leave. A bird began to sing a quiet, mournful tune above her as she knelt on the cold ground before Bellamy. 

His face was impossibly pale. If she couldn’t feel the faint pulse beneath the clammy skin on his neck Clarke would have thought he was dead. 

“Just stay with me, Bellamy. Just a little bit longer.” Clarke pulled out the medical kit she had taken from Zida’s hut the day before and a bottle of wine Delia had been saving for Illi’s wedding. She hastily began to clean out the wounds on his chest before bandaging and crudely stitching a few of the worse ones. Bellamy still didn’t wake, even when the alcohol hissed through the cuts, which concerned Clarke greatly. Before she could do much more Miller returned, soon followed by Harley and Monroe. They had found a cave a little ways to the west and within a few minutes were leading the others there. 

Clarke was impressed that Harley and Monroe had even noticed the cave. Its entrance was well hidden behind a mound of rock and earth and located in a thick grove of oak trees. Even better, a small stream flowed nearby. 

“This is perfect guys, good work.”

Monroe simply nodded and hauled their gear into the cave, but Harley grinned widely with pride and what Clarke suspected as a good deal of relief after escaping the Shen’do. 

Once situated inside the small cave Clarke insisted on her companions getting some rest. Harley was more than happy to oblige but Miller and Monroe argued that they needed to be ready if the Shen’do found them. 

“I will keep watch, you have done enough for today. Your bodies need to recover.”

“So does yours, Clarke.”

“I need to take care of Bellamy. Even if one of you were keeping watch I would still be up tending to his wounds. Just sleep, okay? You are no use if you are exhausted.” 

They finally submitted and curled under the furs Clarke had stolen. 

“It’s good to see you, Clarke. Even if the circumstances suck.” Miller’s voice was quiet behind her. 

“Yeah, it’s been hard having you gone.”

A lump formed in Clarke’s throat at Monroe’s words but she pushed it away. She had made her choice and even now she didn’t regret it. “Its good to see you too. Now go to sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! 
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	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy finally speaks!

The sun was out when Clarke finished stitching, cleaning, bandaging, and soothing the cuts and bruises on Bellamy’s arms, chest, and face. By the time she finished bracing his broken fingers the birds outside had reached their morning crescendo. Laying out a soft fur blanket on the floor of the cave, Clarke rolled Bellamy onto it so that his back faced up. 

Her stomach twisted at the sight. Dirt and grime was stuck in the deep slashes, she would have to dig into the wounds to clean them efficiently. The only thing that stopped her sudden urge to take a swig from the wine bottle was the knowledge that his back needed it more than her head. Clarke stood and ripped a long piece of fabric from the wool cloak she had stolen from Delia. Leaving the safety of the cave, Clarke made her way down to the small stream and soaked the strip of woven wool. She watched the blood wash off her hands, staining the clear, clean water with blooms of red. Bringing her eyes up to the tree line, Clarke scanned the woods for any sign of movement. They were far from the village, but not so far that the Shen’do wouldn’t find them. It was only a matter of time until the warriors searched this part of the woods. The cave was hidden, but not that well. They needed to leave as soon as they could. 

When she returned Clarke almost didn’t notice that Bellamy was awake. If he hadn’t hissed when she began to wipe at his back she may have been ignorant of his consciousness for a while longer. 

“Bellamy?”

His only response was a pained groan. 

“I need to clean the lacerations on your back.” She grabbed a stick from nearby and held it close to his mouth. “Bite down on this. I would give you some of the wine but there isn’t enough. I need to save it to disinfect your back.” 

He groaned again but bit down on the stick in her hand. Ever so slowly, he moved his arms up to grip the fur beneath him in preparation for what was to come. Clarke eyed him with concern. It was good that he was awake, even better that he seemed fully lucid unlike when she had seen him in the bunker. It would have been less painful for him, however, if he had remained dead to the world for just a few more hours. 

Gritting her death Clarke began to gently scrub at the torn flesh again. Bellamy was tense beneath her hands, his teeth dug into the wood and his fingers held the furs in a death grip. When it came time to pour the wine over the wounds Clarke woke Miller to hold down Bellamy’s arms. The excruciating wail that Bellamy released as the alcohol touched his mangled skin didn’t sound human. Any guilt Clarke felt over stealing Shen’do goods or killing the guards vanished as she watched him writhe on the ground. Miller’s concerned eyes met Clarke’s. Roughly brushing tears out of her eyes Clarke got to work stitching and bandaging Bellamy’s back. By the time she was finished he had once again passed out from the pain. 

After going back down the small stream to wash off her hands, Clarke slumped against the cave wall next to Miller. The sat in silence for a few moment watching the rise and fall of Bellamy’s back. Clarke broke the silence first by asking Miller how his shoulder was doing. The younger man tried to brush off her questions but Clarke insisted on examining him. After a few minutes of poking and prodding Miller finally admitted to Clarke that Myko and his men had popped it out of its socket for a while. 

“Bellamy got it back in when they brought me back to the cell we all shared the first two days, but its still sore.” Of course he had. He was Bellamy. 

“I don’t think he did it right, how was your arm positioned?” 

Miller showed her and Clarke frowned. She ripped off another strip of fabric from her wool cloak and fastened it as a sling around Miller’s shoulders. 

“There, that should help. Try not to move it more than you need to over the next few days. What about your other injuries? Do I need to-”

“No, that old healer woman came in the first couple days and fixed us up, then when you came in it helped too. Everything is scabbing over fine.” He nodded towards Bellamy, “Its him who needs your help.”

Clarke sighed heavily. “I just don’t understand why they were so brutal with him. They thought you were enemy spies and the Shen’do are traditionally very suspicious of any outsiders, but this seems overboard.”

“Well the smartass may have been asking for it. When they went to take us he threw every insult he had at them, even hinted that he knew information we didn’t. The idiot was trying to get exactly this to happen I think. He wanted them to focus on him and leave us alone.”

Clarke stared at Bellamy’s back for a long moment. He had always been too willing to sacrifice himself, too eager to put himself in harms way even if it only bought others a minute more of life. She pushed the thought out of her mind and turned back to Miller.

“We need to get going soon. We aren’t far enough from the village to establish a long-term campsite. They will reach this part of the forest soon and it’s a toss up on whether or not they will notice the cave. There is blood all over the leaves and muddy footprints near the stream. I tried to cover it as best I could earlier while everyone was sleeping and I was collecting water, but I have seen the Shen’do warriors in action; we don’t stand a chance if they notice anything askew. Not after killing three guards.”

Miller nodded. Clarke could tell there were a thousand questions on the tip of his tongue. He settled on just asking about Bellamy. “What about him? We can’t keep moving him, I’m sure you can see that.”

Clarke nodded. “That’s the problem. He needs to rest and recuperate, plus I’m afraid everything will reopen if we have to drag him around more but he isn’t strong enough to stand let alone walk long distances.”

Miller sighed in frustration. “This whole mission was so fucked up. He didn’t even want to do it, he nearly left the Council over it when Kane ordered him to take a group to the Peace meeting. He said it was too close to close to winter and they needed us more at camp to help get food and prepare cabins. Now look where he is. The only reason any of us are alive is the fucking miracle that you were in that village.” 

It was more words than Clarke had ever heard the man string together before. That along with the bitterness in his voice made his opinion on the mission crystal clear as well. 

“When are you supposed to return to camp?”

“Two nights from now I think. It was meant to be a two-week trip. We were counting the days but time got funky in that bunker.”

Clarke grimaced before turning to Miller. “You should go back. Take Monroe and Har-”

“What are you talking about, Clarke?” He was incredulous and something about it reminded Clarke of Bellamy. 

“Go back to Camp Jaha. The last thing we need is them sending a search party right into Shen’do lands. Swing around them wide, go farther south before turning east and don’t start north until you are sure you aren’t on their lands anymore.”

“How are we supposed to find our way home like that, Clarke? We were marking the trees and planning on taking the same route back.”

“Follow the sun and the stars to point you in the right direction, things will start to look familiar enough soon.”

“Clarke-”

“Then trace the same route you came on but be extremely careful.”

“But what about you?”

“I need to stay with him,” she pointed to Bellamy. “Like I said, he isn’t well enough to travel.”

“You said it yourself though, Clarke. Its only a matter of time until they find you.”

“You just focus on getting Monroe and Harley back safe. I can take care of us.”

Miller was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke his voice was choked. “He wouldn’t want me to leave you.”

Clarke looked over to the unconscious man Miller was referring to. “No, he wouldn’t. But he would know it is the right choice.”

Miller’s only response was a tight nod before he woke up the others. 

They left late in the afternoon taking half of Clarke’s supplies with them. She gave them the best directions she could and imparted all her knowledge on Shen’do fighting techniques and patrol schedules and locations. Sitting on the rocky outcrop in front of the cave, Clarke watched Miller, Monroe, and Harley fade into the distance. She hoped luck would stay on their side a little longer. They would need it. 

Exhaustion hit her the moment she reentered the cave. Every muscle in her body ached and her eyes could barely stay open. The adrenaline that had kept her running for so long was fading away quickly. It was impractical for her to stay awake. It wasn’t as if she and Bellamy would be able to take turns keeping watch; he was incapable of any physical activity at the moment and needed all the rest he could get. She lay down across from him, said a silent prayer to what powers may be to keep the Shen’do away while she slept, and nearly passed out from exhaustion. 

When Clarke woke it was dark out. The full moon bathed the woods in an eerie light but so far their location remained undiscovered. She could only hope the same for the others who had left that morning. Though it was still dangerous, Clarke decided to build a small fire. As the flames licked at the wood she had piled Clarke sat back and watched the light dance across the cave walls. 

“C-Clarke?” Bellamy’s hoarse voice startled Clarke from the trance she was in. She quickly moved over to where Bellamy lay on his stomach. 

“Hey, how you doing?” 

Bellamy just groaned in response and nodded towards her flask by the fire. Understanding immediately, Clarke quickly brought the water to his lips, gently guiding his movements. After gulping down the water Bellamy shut his eyes again and let out a long, pained sigh. 

“How long was I out? “

“Only a day.” 

He swallowed thickly. “Everything hurts.”

“I know. I need to check your bandages, okay?” He cracked one eye open, fear evident in his features. 

“You got anymore of that wine?” 

Clarke shook her head causing him to sigh resignedly. Once again Bellamy griped the fur beneath him as Clarke began to remove the bandages from his back. With relief she noted that his wounds were already starting to scab over, no infection appeared to have set in since their escape. It was better news than she had hoped for. After digging in her bag for fresh bandages and applying them, Clarke gently placed a hand on Bellamy’s arm. 

“I’m done with your back.” 

Bellamy opened his eyes and released the furs. “How is it?” He asked, voice grim. 

“Better than I expected, but not great. It’s going to be a while before we can leave.” It was only then that Bellamy seemed to realize they were alone. 

“Where are the others?”

“Bellamy-”

“Where are the others, Clarke?”

She sighed, refusing to meet his eyes. “I sent them back. I didn’t want more people to come this way and they were well-”

“What if they are captured again, Clarke? What-” Bellamy’s words died in his throat as he tried to push himself off the ground. With a cry of pain he collapsed back onto the floor, face contorted in agony. 

“We can argue about this later, you need to rest now. Don’t try to push yourself up like that again; your wounds haven’t totally scabbed over yet. You’ll just reopen them.” His only response was an angry huff. “I need to prop you up against the wall so I can look at the wounds on your chest. I’m going to guide you and push you up, just help me along, okay? Don’t over exert yourself though.” 

Bellamy nodded once and Clarke gently adjusted him into a sitting position, careful to rest him against a flat section of wall in order to spare his back from jagged rocks. His eyes were pinched shut in pain causing a lump to form in Clarke’s throat. 

“Why don’t you talk to me? It might help distract you from the pain.” 

“Talk to you about what?” He winced as she began to probe at his bruises and cuts. 

“Anything. Tell me about this summer.”

“It sucked,” Bellamy hissed. “It was hot as fuck and we had to build up camp. Grounder deserters keep wanting to join us so we have to keep building and expanding. I told Kane- God Clarke!” 

“Sorry, there was dirt I needed to clean out. What did you tell Kane?” 

“I told him that we had to stop allowing everyone in unless they start bringing in food and supplies. We are starving. That’s why I got sent on this fucking suicide mission.” 

“How is Octavia?” 

Bellamy seemed to lighten a bit as his sister’s name. “She’s is doing good. Real good. She is going to have a baby soon.” 

Clarke looked up in surprise. “Really? With Lincoln?”

“Who else?”

“That’s great, you must be so excited.”

“Yeah… yeah I guess I am.”

“But…”

“But I’m worried too. I don’t want- fuck!”

“Sorry.”

Bellamy silently stared at her for a while as Clarke continued her examination of his wounds. 

“We are going to die here aren’t we?”

Clarke took her eyes off his chest and met his gaze. His eyes were solemn, lacking all the warmth they once held. “No.” 

“That’s a lie and you know it. You should just leave me, Clarke. I can’t move, there’s no way you have enough food for both of us, I assume that we didn’t make it too far from those bastards and they don’t seem like the type that just let their prisoners get away.”

“We are not going to die here, Bellamy. And I’m not going to leave you.”

He scoffed and looked away. A familiar wave of guilt washed through Clarke. “I’m done. You should stay sitting like this for a little while though. I’m going to go get more water.” She felt Bellamy’s eyes on her back as she left. 

Clarke spent longer than necessary by the small stream running over her conversation with Bellamy. His incredulous, bitter scoff at her promise not to leave rang in her ears. Of course he was mad, it only made sense after all. She had left him to deal with their mess. Left him alone for close to two years now. Long ago Clarke had reached the conclusion that she wouldn’t return to Camp Jaha. It would be a lie to say that fear of facing Bellamy after her absence didn’t contribute to that decision at all. He hadn’t fought her on leaving, hadn’t gone searching for her to the extent of Clarke’s knowledge, but just because he let her leave didn’t mean it was okay with him. She knew Bellamy too well. Unlike her, he did not do well with solitude. Yes, a part of her felt horribly guilty about leaving him with their shared burden and the added burden of taking care of their people. But at the same time it really hadn’t been a choice for Clarke. On the walk back from Mt. Weather, really since TonDC, she had known there was no way she could live amongst her people again. She didn’t expect Bellamy to understand that. She also didn’t expect him to forgive her for leaving. Despite that, it still hurt to see the anger in his eyes. 

Clarke had imagined many times what it would be like to see him again. Of course this was certainly not the circumstance that she had envisioned but it still hurt that there wasn’t some relief or joy in his voice when he spoke to her. She was certainly happy to see him, even if he had been turned into a bloody pulp. A part of her had hoped that he would at least be a little happy to see her too. 

With a sigh Clarke stood, grabbing the flask full of water as she rose. It was her own fault, after all, that Bellamy’s demeanor towards her was so different. What else could she expect after two years apart and an ocean of unspoken words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr! Send me prompts! Talk to me! I have more writing on there!
> 
> http://clipmywingsandwalkmymiles.tumblr.com/


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all like it!

When she reentered the cave Bellamy was still where she had left him, not that he could have moved much if he wanted. His eyes followed her movement around the confined space. 

“You should get more rest, Bellamy. We need to leave as soon as possible so the most you can let yourself recover the better.” 

He didn’t answer her but his eyes didn’t leave the back of her neck. With a frustrated sigh Clarke slumped down against the wall opposite him. If he was going to just stare at her she figured she was allowed to do the same. 

Bellamy looked different than he had when she last saw him all those months ago in the field outside Camp Jaha. He looked even older than he had then. Clarke knew their age difference and had always noticed how much his maturity stuck out against that of the younger delinquents during their early weeks together on Earth. But now he seemed almost too old. He had to be what, twenty-five, twenty-six? But there were worry lines across his face that hadn’t been there before. Stubble was growing thick across his well-defined jaw and a thousand more freckles danced across Bellamy’s bruised, more deeply tanned skin. His hair was shorter, his shoulders broader, his eyes more weary. Clarke wondered how different she looked to him. If she looked any older, what he thought of the thick Shen’do style side braids in her hair and the swirling tattoo the Sea Clan had etched into the skin of her arms and neck, if he noticed the new curve in her nose from breaking it twice. 

Bellamy broke their staring contest first by dropping his eyes to the fire. His expression was hard and unreadable causing summersaults of guilt in Clarke’s gut. 

“How did we get away?” His voice was cold and quiet. 

“I snuck in at night. I’ve been in the village long enough to know guard schedules and where I can find whatever supplies I need. I never planned to stay there for too long so I made sure to learn that kind of information early on. Their only healer is a very old woman so I was worried they wouldn’t let me leave when the time came. I killed the outside guards and used their keys to get Miller, Monroe and Harley out. They helped me free you.”

Bellamy’s eyes rose to meet hers again. “How did you get me out? I know that Miller and Monroe were hurt pretty bad by those assholes and Harley has always been a jumpy kid.”

“I carried you.”

His eyes bore into hers for a long moment before turning away again. “I- I thought you weren’t real when I was in there.” Bellamy swallowed thickly. “I thought it was some hallucination or dream or something. I thought maybe I was dead.” 

“There was news all over the village that people from the sky were captured. I had to see for myself so I poisoned the healer and took her place when the guards came for her. I wasn’t expecting it to be you. They said they had a council member.”

Bellamy nodded solemnly. “I gave them so much hell the first few weeks after you- after we got everyone back. They just thought it was easier to appoint me as a council member representing our people than risk a coup or something.” 

“Bellamy,” Clarke hesitated before finishing her question. “Why did they beat you so terribly?”

“Because they are fucking savages.”

“I lived with them for two months. I know that they are not ones to shy away from torture, but this,” she gestured at his body, “just seems excessive. Especially considering you aren’t one of their traditional enemies.” 

A bitter smirk formed on Bellamy’s lips. “That’s not what they thought.” 

“Bellamy-”

“They were hurting the others, Clarke. Miller, Monroe, and Harley were forced to go on this mission. I was given a choice. Plus it was my decision to go through this part despite warnings we got from some friendly groups. I thought it would be faster and the only thing on my mind was getting back to camp as quick as possible because I knew this stupid peace and trade conference would not pan out. We aren’t ready for winter and every day that four able bodied workers are away we lose more resources. They are younger too. Harley just turned sixteen and he isn’t use to war. Monroe and Miller both have people waiting for them back home.”

“You have people waiting back home. You have Octavia.”

Bellamy scoffed, “Yeah and Octavia has Lincoln and the baby. My point is I’m not her only family now. Miller and Monroe are people’s only family. Look, they were in my charge so it was my job to keep them safe. My people, my responsibility.”

“So you led the Shen’do to believe you were in collusion with their enemies in order to spare the others?” 

“I didn’t say anything specific. Just hinted that I knew more than the others, threw every insult I had at them, gave the impression that I was important.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “You could have died, Bellamy. You very nearly did.”

“So? I almost die once a week it seems. If my death means three of my people are spared then I consider it worth it.” 

She stared at him long and hard. Bellamy didn’t shy away from her gaze. Enduring the horrid torture that he had suffered was more than just dying for his people. 

“Bellamy-”

“Look, Clarke, its over okay? I did it, I don’t regret it, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I don’t abandon my people.”

A flash of anger surged through Clarke at the pointed insult. “Oh but I do? Is that what you are trying to say?”

Bellamy didn’t answer. Instead he glared fixedly at the wall. Clarke scoffed before striding back out into the darkness. She sat just outside the mouth of the cave staring up at the stars that blinked through the dying leaves. Angry tears rolled down her cheeks but she made no effort to brush them away. 

When Clarke reentered the cave an hour later Bellamy was asleep, still slumped against the wall. As gently as she could, Clarke lowered him down onto the fur. The last thing he needed on top of his injuries as a sore neck. He woke briefly at her touch, but never fully came out of sleep. For a while Clarke simply watched him from her place across the fire. She hated that it felt like spying on a stranger, but there was no denying that they were both very different people after two years apart.

At some point in the night Clarke must have drifted off to sleep. She was woken suddenly by fingers curling tightly around her arm. Starting in fear and surprise, Clarke’s eyes searched the darkness for her assailant. 

“Quiet, Clarke,” Bellamy’s voiced hissed next to her. It sounded pained and weak, but there was a quality of panic in his words. That coupled with the fact he must have dragged himself over to her despite his injuries informed Clarke of the gravity of the situation. It didn’t take long for Clarke to realize what was going on. 

Clear, distinct voices were coming from just outside the cave. The Shen’do had finally arrived. 

Jumping up, Clarke stamped out the smoldering coals of their dying fire. She spread the sticks and ash around the floor trying to destroy any sign of a fire. Then, after grabbing her pack and Bellamy’s fur she tugged Bellamy into a back corner of the cave. He did his best to follow her; despite the obvious pain it caused him. Clarke threw herself against the cave’s wall, pulled Bellamy’s back against her chest, and threw the dark fur blanket over them.

Bellamy was shaking in pain where he sat between her thighs. He was resting his weight against her and Clarke could feel blood seeping into her shirt from the cuts that had opened on his back. Even sitting, Bellamy was a good deal taller than her so when he dropped his head back against the wall her lips brushed against the side of his cheek, just beside his ear. 

“You shouldn’t have moved,” Clarke whispered, shivering slightly at the tickle of his stubble against her lips. 

“Like I had a choice,” he replied, hissing in pain. “My body feels like its on fire.”

Clarke raised a hand and began running her fingers through his hair in an attempt to provide some comfort. 

“Well, one way or another this will be over soon.” The fear in her gut was evident in her words. 

“If they come in we're dead.”

Clarke didn’t disagree. The darkness and black fur did provide some cover, but she was sure the scouts had torches. 

A bead of sweat rolled down Bellamy’s temple onto Clarke’s cheek. She felt it slip down her neck. He was breathing heavily and his hands held her thighs tightly. They were so fucked. If Bellamy couldn’t move across the small cave without suffering this greatly there was no way they could move to a new location anytime soon. He seemed to have the exact same thought. 

“If we…” He gulped in a breath, pushing through his pain, “if we make it through this you need to leave me, Clarke. You need to get somewhere safe. I’m just holding you back.”

“I’m not leaving you, Bellamy.” 

“Clarke-”

“No, I won’t-”

The both froze as a heavy footstep fell just outside the mouth of the cave. Bellamy’s grip on her legs got impossibly tighter; Clarke’s hand in his hair stopped, fisting in his sweaty curls. Their heartbeats pounded against each other’s where their bodies met. 

For what felt like an eternity they sat clinging to each other, listening to the footsteps and voices just outside. Clarke tried to strain her ears to see what they were saying, but the distance and thick fur covering between her and the scouts muffled their words. At some point Bellamy passed out from exhaustion, his head falling against hers, hands limp at his sides. Not long after, the voices got fainter and fainter until they eventually faded away. 

Clarke remained still and hidden for a while, terrified that the men were still just outside. It seemed too good to imagine they had completely missed the cave. When bird song hit her hears, however, Clarke knew their luck had held. The Shen’do hadn’t looked carefully enough; they hadn’t found the cave. 

Bellamy and Clarke stayed in the small cave for another week while Bellamy continued to recover. They rarely risked a fire and kept watch throughout the day. Clarke told herself the reason they barely spoke to one another was so they could listen for any danger, but she knew better. When the sun rose on the seventh day Clarke was sitting by the mouth of the cave, breaking small sticks and listening to the birds singing to the morning. In the corner of her eye she saw Bellamy groan awake as he propped himself up on his elbows. In the past couple days he had been more mobile. His wounds were all scabbed over, bruises beginning to fade little by little. Clarke stood to bring their flask of water to him. Without glancing up at her, he took the water and gulped down. 

“We should leave soon,” Clarke said as she moved back towards the mouth of their small shelter. Bellamy was silent for a moment.

“Today.” 

She glanced back at him; saw the determination in his eyes even as the arm holding him up shook slightly. “You aren’t ready yet.” 

Bellamy rolled his eyes. “Clarke, we need to go. You said it yourself last night, it’s a miracle we are still alive. The longer we stay here the more likely we are to die. Plus we are running out of food. If we leave we can hunt as we go, maybe even find a friendly village.”

“Here we have shelter and water. If we leave and you can’t make it far we may not find a safer place.”

“We can’t just stay here forever, Clarke!”

“Keep your voice down.”

Bellamy huffed in anger and set his jaw. Ignoring his dramatics, Clarke snatched the flask from his hand before striding out of the cave to refill it. She knew he was right; they needed to leave soon. With winter setting in any day now and the journey back to Camp Jaha ahead of them, time was of the essence. At the same time, however, Clarke was worried about his injuries. She didn’t want Bellamy to further hurt himself and despite his arguments he clearly wasn’t well enough to walk far on his own. She was strong, but much smaller than him if it came to helping him walk. There was no way they would get very far. Either way, they would be returning to Camp Jaha in winter weather, it was just a matter of whether they spent more time in a secure, safe shelter so their time in the elements was shorter or leaving now and dealing with the weather and an immobile Bellamy. She had missed him over the years, but Bellamy was as insufferable as ever. 

Her irritation only worsened when she returned to the cave with fresh water. To her shock, Bellamy was standing, leaning heavily against a wall, and huffing with exertion. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Clarke yelled, dropping the flask and rushing over to steady him. 

“Keep your voice down,” he retorted, echoing her earlier words and causing her to roll her eyes. 

“You are going to hurt yourself and we are just going to be stuck here longer. Sit down.” 

Instead he shrugged her off of him. “Stop, I can do this, Clarke.” 

She moved towards him again, ready to reply with all the reasons why he couldn’t and shouldn’t force his body to do too much before it was ready. The words died in her mouth, however, as Bellamy walked across the cave to the opposite wall. Yes, his legs were a bit wobbly and yes it was slow, but he did it. The second his hand touched the all across from her, his face broke out into a wide grin. “I told you I could do it.”

“Shut up, its still a stupid thing to do.”

“But I’m clearly capable of more than you think. We leave tomorrow.”

“No, I don’t care if you can walk across a cave, we are going to be walking all day.”

“There is nothing wrong with my legs, Clarke. I can-”

“Your body is still exhausted from-”

“-walk just as well as-”

“-being tortured for days while-”

Eventually, due to Bellamy’s stubbornness and Clarke’s frustration, they managed to agree on leaving in two days. “But take it easy,” Clarke told him. “Walk a little bit every now and then to stretch but don’t do too much.” 

“I don’t take orders from you.” She just rolled her eyes at the familiar words, unable to hid the small smile that graced her lips because finally, finally after over a week together again it felt a little like it use to with him.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this has taken so long to put up. My summer has been pretty busy!

They set off early, the sun still just peaking over the horizon and the air chilly.

Clarke carried most of the supplies but let Bellamy lead them so he could set the pace. They didn’t speak much, both wanting to listen for any danger, but every now and then Clarke redirected Bellamy. Rather than fighting her, he just nodded and changed course. Their progress was slow, the pace Bellamy set wasn’t very fast and they stopped often so he could rest, but by sundown they were a good deal farther from the Shen’do than they had been when they set out. 

“Do you think we can risk a fire?” Bellamy huffed as he dropped to his knees. They had decided to stop for the night in a small thicket of trees that provided some shelter from the elements. “It’s fucking freezing.” 

Clarke gazed around rubbing her hands together to keep warm. “I want to, I really do, but I don’t think we should risk it. I’m sure they're still looking.” 

Bellamy clearly wasn’t pleased but he nodded and dropped back, bracing his weight on his arms. His gaze followed Clarke as she dug through her pack to find water and the their rations. “There’s only enough for another day, maybe two, after this,” she said as she handed him some jerky. 

“We’ll figure it out. There has to be game in these woods. It’ll be too late in the season for berries or anything.”

“Maybe fish if we come across a river or creek.” Bellamy nodded. They sat in silence for a while, listening to each other breathe and an owl calling out in the distance. “You did well today, better than I expected.”

“Thanks,” Bellamy’s voice was quiet and his face turned down. He never had been good at accepting compliments. A breeze suddenly whipped around them causing both to shiver. “This sucks,” he groaned. Clarke bit back the urge to point out that she had suggested staying in the cave a while longer to avoid just this situation. Instead she suggested they go to sleep. 

“We should leave early tomorrow, we want to be out of their territory as soon as possible.”

“You sleep, I’ll take first watch.”

Clarke shook her head, “Its not worth it. Keeping watch won't make a difference if they find us. We should both get as much sleep as we can.” Bellamy looked like he wanted to argue but held his tongue. She was right after all. It wouldn’t make a difference if one of them stayed up. They were out in the open, one of them unable to put up any real fight, with only two knives between them. If the Shen’do somehow managed to find them in the night they were dead. 

Standing up, Clarke unfastened the cloak she had stolen from Delia and spread it on the ground. She reached out an arm to Bellamy and, understanding what she wanted, he took it, using her to help him stand. Clarke unhooked the fur they had fastened to his shoulders for warmth that morning. “Go lay down on the cloak,” she told him quietly. Bellamy instantly seemed to grasp her plan. It was almost comical the way his eyes widened, especially given the situation. “Oh please, don’t be so dramatic. We are both going to freeze if we don’t take advantage of each other’s body heat.” In the fading light Clarke saw a hint of a blush rush up Bellamy’s neck causing her to smile and roll her eyes. 

After he eased down onto the cloak, gingerly adjusting himself so that he lay on his stomach rather than his back, Clarke threw the fur over him and crawled under it. Lying next to Bellamy she stared up at the naked trees and the plethora of stars that dotted the heavens they had once called home. Though exhausted, she couldn’t fall asleep. 

“It seems like another life sometimes,” Bellamy said quietly. Clarke turned her head to return his gaze and frowned in confusion. 

“What does?”

“Everything,” he replied with a bitter laugh. “The Ark, the drop ship, the mountain. I don’t know, it's like when you finish a book and you remember events from it even though you didn’t actually live through them. I feel like it wasn’t really me, like it was some other person that I just watched or something. The Ark especially. Sometimes it just feels like I’ve always been on Earth.”

Clarke hummed in agreement and returned her eyes to the stars. “In a way it was a different world,” she said before adding, “and we were different people,” bitterly. 

He was silent for a moment, but his heavy stare never left her face. “We became who we had to be, Clarke. This planet is brutal, its kill or be killed.”

She looked back at him, taking in his aged features in the moonlight. After a moment she asked, “Is it how you imagined it would be? Earth?”

Bellamy let out a great sigh, moving his hands to rest under his chin as he gazed out at the forest in front of him. “No. No, it isn’t. I guess its a little more similar now than during the war.”

“How so?”

“I always thought it would be this beautiful place, and it is, but it certainly isn’t the peaceful utopia I expected. I thought class divisions would disappear and you could have as many kids as you wanted so O and my mom would be safe. I don’t know, I just saw this Garden of Eden. Even after my life went to shit on the Ark I still thought the Earth would be paradise, a place I could be free from all the people I hated. But then we got down here and at first it seemed great, especially when I thought I could keep the others from coming so I wouldn’t have to run, but then everything got fucked up.” 

“But it's more how you imagined now?” 

“I guess, yeah. I mean Camp Jaha is pretty well established; I do my best to make sure the Council doesn’t favor certain people over others. We aren’t at war. But the weather is crappy and there is never enough food or medical supplies and there are dicks like the Shen’do all over.” Clarke let out a quiet laugh causing Bellamy to turn back towards her and smile. “What about you? What did you expect?”

“Pretty much the same as you. Well, that’s how I imagined it would be in hundreds of years. I thought that now it would be a cesspool of radiation.”

“Of course you did,” Bellamy smirked. Clarke rolled her eyes at him. 

“Sorry I was rational about it.” 

He just shook his head and looked back out towards the trees. “You are always so rational, Clarke. Its almost irrational how rational you are.” There was a tinge of sadness in his voice that made Clarke’s stomach knot though she couldn’t figure out why. Silence fell back over them and Clarke’s mind drifted to all that they had to do in the morning. They needed to find more water and Bellamy’s bandages needed to be changed. Then it was back to marching southeast for at least a few more days before turning north. Suddenly a large, warm hand slipped into hers under the fur startling Clarke out of her thoughts. She turned, eyes widened, towards Bellamy who was already looking at her. With the darkness now masking his face she couldn’t read his expression. 

“I missed you, Clarke.” His voice was rough, causing her to swallow hard. “I know this situation is fucked, but I’m glad you are here, with me.”

Clarke squeezed his hand, “Me too,” she said while trying to hold down tears because yes, she had decided to not return to Camp Jaha but that didn’t mean she didn’t miss Bellamy like hell. She cleared her throat. “I missed you too.” 

They fell asleep still holding hands. 

In the morning Clarke made quick work of bandaging his wounds and they set off again, hoping to find water on the way. Their journey followed the same pattern for a week as they walked through uninhabited woods and marshes. They walked all day, sleep in the open, and spoke very little. 

Six days after leaving the cave Bellamy and Clarke came upon their first village since the Shen’do. Bellamy spotted it first, whipping out a hand to stop Clarke as she ascended the hill behind him. She was smart enough to know to be quiet when Bellamy stopped her in the middle of the woods, choosing instead to quietly move forward and peek over his shoulder. 

The village was small, smaller than most she had stayed at over the course of the past two years. Children played just beyond the line of wood huts and livestock wandered freely. Both were signs of a peaceful people. She whispered this to Bellamy who knit his brow in response. 

“You sure?” Clarke could hear the fear he was trying to mask. She couldn’t blame him, not after what happened in the last village he was in. 

“No, but we need more food. That rabbit is almost gone. They could also let us know if we are out of Shen’do land and can turn north.”

“What if they are their allies?”

Clarke bit her lip in thought and gazed back out towards the village. The huts didn’t have the distinctive Shen’do style and the children wore bright colors, something the Shen’do believed were taboo because they attracted ghosts. 

“I don’t think they are.” She pointed out these differences to Bellamy but he still didn’t seem sure. “Trust me, Bellamy. I’ve spent the past two years making these judgment calls.” 

His eyes immediately left her face and the muscle in his jaw ticked, but he nodded. Clarke moved in front of him leading the way down to the village. A dog saw them first, it’s barking notifying the children who in turn ran for their parents. Clarke and Bellamy waited on the edge of the village, not wanting to enter without permission. Before long a group of adults emerged from the cluster of buildings. They worse similar clothes to the children and let their hair hang lose, another indicator they weren’t related to the Shen’do who always wore elaborate, tight braids. An older woman led the group and was the one who addressed Clarke and Bellamy. Her speech had an accent Clarke wasn’t familiar with and a few words seemed off, but long ago Clarke had learned most grounder languages were recent descendants of English and all had similar features and words. It took a second, but Clarke was able to translate what was said. 

“Who are you? Why are you here?” 

“We are trying to get home. He is injured and we are hungry,” she replied in the dialect of the northern woods near Camp Jaha, hoping the woman would understand. Fortunately, it appeared she did. 

“Weapons?”

Clarke looked at Bellamy, who appeared to understand what the woman was asking. He pursed his lips at Clarke, silently objecting to the request. Clarke raised her eyebrows as if to tell him they had no choice before dropping her knife. To her relief, Bellamy did the same thing a moment later. 

Two men stepped forward, past the woman who appeared to be the village’s leader, and searched both Clarke and Bellamy for more weapons. When Bellamy hissed in pain, they inspected his back, calling the older woman over too. This clearly upset Bellamy; Clarke could see his clenched fists and jaw as the strangers inspected his wounds. 

Finally they left them, returning to the larger group and gesturing for Bellamy and Clarke to follow as they led them through the small village. Children stared at them from doorways. Eventually they came to a stop outside one of the larger, wooden structures. The older woman entered, waving to them to follow. Once inside they were sat down on a straw mat and given water and some kind of porridge. 

“I am Eda, mother of our people. You will stay with me for three nights, then you must leave.” Clarke nodded to show she understood. “When you are done eating, our healer will attend your man,” Eda added, causing Clarke to blush. “While Jorah heals him you will tell me who you are and how you came here.”

“Yes, thank you,” Clarke replied, bowing her head in a sign of respect. She related what Eda had said to Bellamy who still looked skeptical. Before long a young man entered carrying medical supplies. As he began applying a strange salve to Bellamy’s back Eda asked Clarke more about herself. 

“My name is Anya,” she replied, ignoring the confused look Bellamy sent her. “I am a healer from the north, near TonDC, just south of Polis.” Eda nodded, indicating she knew the area. “Two winters ago I left my village to travel. Since then I have been going village to village learning from local healers and teaching them what I know.” Bellamy was looking at her hard, but Clarke kept her eyes on Eda. 

When she had first started visiting villages, nearly six months after leaving Camp Jaha, Clarke had used her name. However, three months and numerous hostile receptions later she learned it was safer and easier to just adopt a grounder identity. 

“I see you went to the sea,” Eda said, pointing at Clarke’s tattoo that was just visible above the neckline of her jacket. Clarke pulled her sleeve up and neckline down to show more. 

“Yes, I stayed there longer than any other village.”

Eda nodded, “I know them well. You are one of theirs, that is what the mark means.”

“Yes, they said I would always be welcomed back.”

The older woman smiled before turning to Bellamy. “And him? Who is he? Does he not speak?” 

“He is also from the north,” Clarke hesitated for a moment, locking eyes with Bellamy, before continuing. “He is a Sky Person. His name is Bellamy.” Eda gave an audible gasp, but it wasn’t clear if it was in awe or fear. “He does speak, he speaks the old tongue and can understand what I am saying but he doesn’t understand your tongue,” she looked to Bellamy who nodded in confirmation. 

“Bellamy of the Sky People?” Eda asked, eyes fixed on Bellamy. The man attending Bellamy, whom Clarke suspected was the village healer, also gazed down at the man before him in surprise. Bellamy, who had heard his name and must have inferred the question, nodded. Eda looked back to Clarke. “We have heard of the Sky People and of Bellamy of the Sky People here. Traders carried stories of men who fell from the stars and speak and look like the old ones, from before the bombs. They said Bellamy of the Sky People defeated a cursed mountain with a warrior named Clarke of the Sky People.”

Clarke swallowed hard, hoping her physical description had not travelled as well. “Yes. My clan aided them in the battle with Mount Weather. I met Bellamy there, before I left to travel.” Bellamy gave an audible scoff that seemed to confuse Eda. Clarke gave him a warning look, now was not the time to argue over the past. “For the past couple moons I have lived with the Shen’do.” This was another critical moment, everything was riding on Clarke’s assumption that Eda and her people were not friendly with the Shen’do. The older woman’s sudden sharp glare seemed to indicate Clarke had guessed correctly. 

“The Shen’do? Why?” Her voice was harsh and demanding. It would have raised Clarke’s alarm if it hadn’t been exactly what she wanted. 

“I was captured by them many weeks ago, but once they discovered I am a healer they let me live freely as long as I remained in their village. Their only healer is old and-”

“Yes, I know. I know the Shen’do well,” Eda said bitterly. 

“A few weeks ago Bellamy and some other warriors of the Sky People were captured on Shen’do land. Though they were passing in peace, the Shen’do believed they were enemy spies and tortured them. I found out about it and, remembering the debt I owe to the Sky People, freed them.”

“Where are the others?”

Clarke’s stomach knotted in fear. “Home, I hope. They left us two weeks ago. I stayed behind to help Bellamy who was injured the worst.” 

Eda shifted her gaze between Bellamy and Clarke for a moment before finally nodding. Clarke breathed a sigh of relief. “I am glad you escaped. They are cruel people. You may stay here, Anya, so he can recover. It is an honor to have Bellamy of the Sky People as a guest. The children will be excited.”

“Thank you, Eda. We will not stay long and will not forget your kindness.”

The other woman nodded. “I will show you to a storage hut you two may use to sleep in. Bellamy of the Sky People will join you later, when Jorah is done.” 

Clarke didn’t like leaving Bellamy, and he didn’t seem too keen on the idea either, but she knew compliance was key. Just because Eda had offered them a place to stay didn’t mean she could contradict the woman. They didn’t know these people well enough yet, one wrong move and everything could go to shit. Clarke followed Eda to a small hut on the edge of the village. There were piles of fur, hay, and clay pots inside, but enough room for her and Bellamy to sleep comfortably. 

“Thank you, this is very kind,” she said, turning to the woman who remained in the doorway. 

Eda didn’t reply. She was staring at Clarke as if trying to read her. The heavy gaze made Clarke shift uncomfortably. 

“The traders who came talked much of Bellamy of the Sky People but much more of Clarke of the Sky People.” Clarke’s stomach was doing summersaults. “One told us of how she killed the man she loved to save her people, how she was fearless in battle, how she destroyed all the mountain people with one hand.”

Clarke nodded, keeping her voice neutral. “Yes, I have heard the stories as well.” 

“They also told us,” Eda continued, crossing her arms, “that Clarke was a healer with golden hair. And that she disappeared after the mountain fell. Nobody has seen her since, but some villages in the north claim that she visited them to heal their sick. I also recall being told that Clarke and Bellamy were very close according to the stories. Close enough that she would risk the vengeance of the Shen’do to save him.” 

Eda knew. It was clear to Clarke that the woman had not been fooled. The question now was not whether or not Eda was hostile towards Sky People, she clearly wasn’t. But would she be offended Clarke had tried to hide her identity? 

“On her travels, I have heard that she uses a different name, a different identity,” Clarke finally replied, voice strong and sure so as not to show fear. Many grounders thought she was unbeatable, that reputation had saved her skin in a few places and couldn’t hurt now. “I doubt she does it to insult her hosts with lies, but to protect them from her enemies. There are many who would hurt those who help her for her actions during the war.” 

Eda was silent for a moment, still staring at Clarke, before nodding. “Well, I hope that Clarke of the Sky People knows that she will not be harmed in this village. But I will honor her wishes to remain unknown.” 

“Thank you.” 

After offering a small smile, and bow of respect, Eda left. Clarke let out a sigh and dropped her pack on the straw covered ground. Night was falling outside causing shadows to slip through the open door of the hut. Sitting on the ground, Clarke removed her boots and began to lie out the cloak and fur for her and Bellamy. It was a relief to sleep under a roof rather than in the open where death by the elements, animals, and vengeful warriors were a constant possibility. It was even more of a relief to find such peaceful people, people who didn’t fear or hate the Sky People as many did in the north.


End file.
